


Into A Pool of Boiling Sulphur

by Omensaa



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Body Horror, Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Other, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omensaa/pseuds/Omensaa
Summary: The ground shook beneath his feet, there was a deep rumbling of the Earth tearing itself open, then a thrashing of pain so great that every being on earth with empathic abilities found themselves suddenly shaking with sobs, though they cannot understand why. An Angel had fallen. And Crowley knew that there was only one Angel it could be.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 124





	Into A Pool of Boiling Sulphur

**Author's Note:**

> I'm more of a poetry writer so this is my first time writing any type of Story so any advice or criticism is so welcome.

Crowley ran as fast as his spindly legs would allow down one of Hell’s lesser used corridors. The only evidence there was of any soul nearby was the crying out of damned souls that was the ambient noise of hell. This particular section of Hell the demon now found himself in was rarely used anymore save for when one needed to avoid some commotion happening in a more direct route to one’s destination. To get to where Crowley was headed however this was the only path to be taken. It was the only path in and out of the pit demons went into when they first fell from grace. The grimy corridor he hurried down finally gave way to an ancient stone stairway the width of a two lane street that went down as far as the eye could see, and then even farther after that. He descended the staircase several steps at a time, his legs only stopping his descent for the space of a heartbeat when he realized that the agonized scream that was getting louder than the rest of hell’s constant roars of pain could only belong to the person he was looking for. He let out a pair of sleek black wings and flew down as quickly as those wings would carry him.

• • •   
  


He _ had _ been having an uneventful yet pleasant day. He'd woken up well past noon and stayed in bed as he browsed through social media the same way he used to browse the morning paper. He'd finally gotten up at 1:30 and dressed with a snap. He had checked on his plants and he had not even felt they needed to be threatened today. Truth be told, the more time passed between Crowley and Armageddon the less he threatened his plants. He had been considering driving over to the bookshop and tempting the angel to close for the day when something happened that had not happened for over six thousand years. The ground shook beneath his feet, there was a deep rumbling of the Earth tearing itself open, then a thrashing of pain so great that every being on earth with empathic abilities found themselves suddenly shaking with sobs, though they cannot understand why. An Angel had fallen. And Crowley knew that there was only one Angel it could be. 

“God, no! God, no. No no no no no.” He repeated variations of this as he rushed out to his car and on the dive over, during which he ran over several pigeons and one squirrel and failed to take notice. He peeled into his usual spot in front of the bookshop and slammed the door hard enough that the window cracked. The Bently beared the damage silently and did not blame Crowley one bit. The car was worried too. “Aziraphale!?” he shouted as he rushed to the door. He was hoping the Angel would come out to meet him,  _ I’m fine dear boy _ he would say _ It wasn’t me, I heard it too. Whoever could it be?  _ But the angel did not emerge so he whipped about wildly hoping to spot an angel with his nose in a book too charmed by a story to realize there was a world outside those pages. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears so loudly he could hardly hear his own voice shouting for his best friend. He surveyed the book shop for any damage. Books lay in disarray from the ground shaking only minutes ago. The angel's coat was hung up on the coat rack so he had to be home. Rounding a corner in the shop Crowley found something that wrenched a sob from his throat. A hole torn in the wood floor and foundation where an Angel had fallen and been forced down into Hell. The Earth had sealed up again but man made structures atop it had not. Aziraphale had fallen, was now burning with a pain Crowley knew all too well, and he hadn’t even been there. Maybe if he had been there he could have saved him.

• • •   
  


A small crowd of nearly two dozen lesser demons had gathered at the edge of the pit to watch the newly fallen Angel scream in pain. They had heard of this one, he and The Traitor had stood up to all of Heaven and Hell. He was a fearsome warrior so powerful that hellfire couldn’t destroy him even before this fall. Even the Archangels feared him. These demons would never have gathered so near if it were not for the fact that he was in such pain that he couldn't have known they were there at all. Even with that knowledge the onlookers crouched in corners and behind stalagmites...just in case. The new Fallen was screaming in the brimstone. He was thrashing in agony in a pool of orange-red liquid on top of which was a thin layer of pale blue flame that moved along the surface like the rapids of a river. Here and there columns of orange flame twisted upward out of the low blue flame, a fiery echo of the stalagmites at the pool's edge. The air reeked with the rotten smell of sulphur and a gas created by the flames gathered thickly over the fiery lake. Rather abruptly the hiding spaces of the spying demons were ambushed by a very large, very angry black snake.  _ The Traitor _ . He had come for his companion and he would surely show no mercy to any who stood in his way. They had all witnessed his botched execution and did not want to find out what else he was capable of. They ran like mice away from the snake and hurried up the stairway as fast as they could.

Crowley slithered into the boiling sulphur and swam to the screaming shaking form in the flames. When he reached Aziraphale he changed forms and wrapped his arms tightly around his best friend focused on trying not to lose his grip to the angel's thrashing. How ever much he wished he could he could not take him out of the fire.The flames of hell have already poisoned him, if he took him from the fire now the poison would spread and he would be destroyed. This boiling pool of sulphur was the only place in existence where an Angel would not be killed by hellfire. He had to let the flames finish their work and change the Angel into a Demon. His only option was to stay with the Angel, let him be torn apart and remade by the flames of hell.

Crowley held tight onto his best friend and could not stifle his sobs. He dragged his friend to a more shallow portion where Crowley could stand and keep his Aziraphale in the lake of fire. Aziraphale’s skin was blistered and shiny, his eyes were shut tight and he let out a constant roar of pain that Crowley doubted he even knew he was making. Crowley reached out on the metaphysical plane where their forms were noncorporeal and where he knew Aziraphale would be able hear him in the very center of his being even now while he was in the worst pain known to existence. Crowley held him tightly on both planes and gently spoke with his true form.

_ \- Aziraphale, I’m with you. I’m here. _

_ \- Crowley? _

_ \- Yes, Angel. It’s Crowley. I’ve got you. I know this will be the opposite of what you want to do right now but don’t resist the fire. If you fight the pain it prolongs the change. You have to embrace it. _

_ \- Crowley. Crowley has got me. It is going to be okay. _

In the physical plane Crowley let out a sob at Aziraphale’s words and held Aziraphale tighter. Aziraphale’s corporation had stopped it’s thrashing immediately after Crowley’s advice and while he could not help shaking with pain and fear he had stopped trying to escape the flames. Crowley pulled Aziraphale closer and looked at the Angel in his arms. His clothes had burnt away in some places and into the flesh in others and his exposed skin was covered in blisters that were growing in the fire and leaking. His skin was searing like meat in a frying pan. Crowley rarely ate but he may never eat again after seeing the burning skin peeling away from his best friend's hands.The Angel couldn't help the pained screams even as he tried to even his breath and let the fire do what it wanted. After a half an hour of the flames with Crowley’s gentle reassurances Aziraphale’s agonized shouts subsided into whimpers and gasps. Aziraphale was doing so much better than Crowley had. Crowley had screamed for two full days. Crowley had no one helping him but he would not let that happen to Aziraphale.

Crowley remembers every moment he was stuck in the flames. He couldn’t see or hear or think at first, all that he was was pain. The smell of the place was awful too. Something about sulphur smelling of rotten eggs seemed to add insult to injury. They had been thrown away by their creator as if they had never mattered and She had them land in a boiling lake of liquid fart to top it off. At first he thought that even putting a toe in would mean he'd smell bad forever. The flames and boiling liquid had cooked his flesh until his extremities had started detaching until all he was was a head and a long spine charred black in the fire. His charred flesh had cracked until it looked like scales. After two weeks in the boiling flaming pool he found it was finally no longer a torturous burn but a comforting warmth, but it still stunk to high...well... to somewhere anyway, so he slithered his way easily and painlessly to the surrounding rock where a few others who had also been changed in various ways by the fires were waiting for their orders.

Crowley came back to himself when he felt something brush past him atop the orange-red liquid and he shuddered when he saw that it was the meat of a hand. Azirphale’s hand had cooked in the boiling heat and the meat had detached from the bone and was now floating off away from its owner. A beautiful and gentle hand he had seen turn countless pages with reverence, had seen bringing various foods to the angel's mouth, had seen lifting a flaming sword with conviction and grace, and had now seen cooked until degloved.

_ \- What is it, dear? _

Crowley had let his distress bleed through onto the metaphysical plane and Aziraphale could sense it. Aziraphale squirmed a little in Crowley's arms and let out a shaky breath. "Crow...ley" He spoke aloud for the first time. His voice was strained and hoarse from the earlier screaming. Crowley doubted he'd be heard if he replied aloud.

_ \- i'm right here. I'm not leaving your side. _

Aziraphale tried to smile at that but his brow furrowed with pain, even smiling made his face ache. For the first time the falling angel opened his eyes and saw the state he was in. "Oh, this is rather unpleasant." He croaked in possibly the biggest understatement ever made by any living being. He continued to take even measured breaths as he silently appraised the worsening condition of his form. The parts of him in the boiling liquid were softening and falling away the part of him above the sulphur's surface was being licked by low blue flame and was burning to black.

Aziraphale shut his eyes and Crowley could see he was trying his best to keep letting the fire consume him. Crowley could also tell that if it weren't for the heat drying out the Angel's eyes he would have been crying. 

_ \- I've got you,Aziraphale. I'm not letting you go. _

_ \- Crowley...my Crowley. My own. _

_ \- Yours. Always have been _ .

Crowley felt a twinge of guilt that he could somehow feel even a little joy while his Angel was in such pain. Aziraphale relaxed into Crowley as the flames seemed to roar hotter around them. The angel’s transformation was speeding up now, His old self was burning away before Crowley’s eyes, and all Crowley could sense on the metaphysical plane was calm, resolve, and the repeating of:

_ \- Mine, My Crowley. _

_ \- I've been yours for a millennium. Only yours. _

The Angel's face was now burnt beyond recognition. His skin above the liquid was quickly charing black. The Angel's weight shifted in his arms as a much larger piece of him floated off. His legs were completely gone as were his arms from the elbows down. 

_ \- I'm yours too. Crowley. Crowley. Crowley. _

He didn't know how it was possible that he could be hearing his greatest dream as well as seeing his worst nightmare. 

There was a shifting within the blackened husk Crowley was clinging to. A piece of what used to be the Angel's shoulder flaked away and for a moment Crowley thought he saw bone but his eyes focused through the flame and gas and saw it was unburnt cream colored feathers. He watched more of his love’s old self flake away to reveal tan and warm brown feathers as well. Crowley let himself laugh. You could tear Aziraphale from heaven but you could not tear him from his color scheme. The husk in his arm twisted abruptly and fell away from a pale creature now pressing into his arms. A large elegant barn owl chirped gently at him and rotated it's head to peer at him as if to gauge his reaction. Crowley could only stare at the unburnt soft creature he held. Having not received a response as he wanted Aziraphale bit into Crowley's earlobe with his new, rather sharp beak. "Ow! You bastard!" At this the owl in his arms gave a happy chirp. 

Crowley walked them out of the lake and to the foot of the stairs where Aziraphale transformed back into a human form. Crowley looked him over to see if anything else had changed. His face was the same, so was his hair, his hands looked the same. "Well? What do you think, Dearest?" Crowley smiled at the hardly different yet oh so different pet name. "The only thing that gives away something's different about you is that the vest is not old and worn like its original." Aziraphale gave a sad smile."I will miss the original. However," he brightened "my coat is still at the bookshop unharmed!" 

"Oh well, as long as the coat's fine." 

"Don't tease! I've had that coat since-" 

"I know! I know! Now, can we go? This place is a bog of eternal stench."

"It is rather odorous, yes."


End file.
